Page 42 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)
Temperance pressed herself against the brick wall on the corner of her father’s street, her breath blossoming in icy clouds.
Through the falling snow she could see the dark drawing-room windows facing the street.
A good sign. Lady Auster and Lord Langston must be out for dinner, just like her stepmother had said last night.
A carriage rattled along the cobblestones, and Temperance waited until it turned the corner, then slipped around to the narrow alley that led to the mews behind her father’s house.
Her house, once she came into her inheritance.
She was wearing her dark pelisse over her governess gown and carried a small satchel with tools she’d pilfered from the butler’s office.
She knew her father’s house well; it had been her home for almost every spring and part of every summer of her life when Papa visited London for the Season.
Though her hands shook with nerves, her heart ached sweetly as she approached the mews, as she stepped closer to home.
The gate looked closed, but since his mistress was out, Papa’s old butler, Banister, wouldn’t have locked it for the night yet. She couldn’t open the gate from the outside if it was locked, but she could deal with the latch. There was a trick to it.
Temperance placed her left hand against the heavy wooden planks and pushed hard. For a moment, nothing happened, then she felt the warped frame flex just enough for the latch bar to clear its bracket. The gate swung inward with a soft creak.
She slipped inside, closed the gate, and crossed the mews to the carriage house quietly.
Inside was dark and empty and relief flooded her: the carriage was not there.
Lady Auster and Langston were truly out.
She went past the vacant stables, coal shed, and kitchen garden.
Her father’s medicinal herb garden had been replaced with ornamental shrubs, yet another painful sign he was gone.
The pawn ticket would be in Papa’s study, adjacent to the dining room, hidden inside his electrophorus. It was quite clever; neither her stepmother nor Langston would touch the instrument because of their distaste for science.
Temperance slid a butter knife through the narrow gap between the upper and lower sashes of a dining room window, which faced the garden.
After several attempts, the catch released with a slight click.
The window resisted at first, probably stuck from winter moisture and disuse, but she kept pushing.
When the sash slid upward, she lost her balance and tumbled face-forward into the room, the floor meeting her palms with an impact that reverberated down her spine.
As she stood, she twisted awkwardly, trying to free her gown from the sash window where it had caught, and with one final desperate tug, she tore the dress free.
The voice behind her made her heart jump into her throat. “May I help you, my lady?”
Temperance whirled around. Banister stood watching her. He was holding a poker from the fireplace in one hand and a candle in the other, looking down at her with a combination of gentleness and wariness.
She exhaled sharply. “Banister! You scared me.”
“Forgive me, my lady. I thought you were a thief.”
She shook her head, slowly exhaling. “I’m afraid I am today, though I’m not after money or valuables. I’m after my freedom.”
Banister nodded and lowered the poker. She hadn’t seen him in three years, since the last time she was here for the Season, the very year she’d met the Duke of Enveigh.
After that, Papa had started to feel ill, and after his death she was in mourning.
Her stepmother hadn’t let her out of the country estate.
Temperance swallowed a tight knot in her throat. “Please, please don’t betray me to your mistress. I have to retrieve the proof of Lord Langston’s theft.”
“Ah,” said Banister. “The diamond necklace.”
She nodded. “Yes, exactly. I know you remember.”
“Of course I do, my lady. It was I who informed His Lordship. Do you know where the pawn ticket is?”
“It’s in my father’s study.”
“Very well. Let me help you.”
“Thank you, but no,” Temperance said, standing awkwardly. “I can take care of myself, and I don’t want you to get into trouble. Just please don’t betray me. That’s already help enough.”
Banister chuckled softly, his face wrinkling even more kindly.
“One day, you will learn you can rely on the people who care for you. Besides, dear girl, you really cannot enter that room without my help. Lady Auster has forbidden anyone to enter the study. It’s kept locked and only I have the key.
Besides, Lady Auster and Lord Langston might return at any moment.
They’ve gone out to dinner, but Lady Auster has been plagued with headaches ever since last night.
Apparently she somehow became trapped in the Duke of Eccess’s library for an hour before a servant freed her and Lord Langston. ”
Fear shot through her like lightning. She supposed she did have to accept his help, which made her feel guilty and vulnerable. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m grateful.”
“The lady’s maid is loyal to your stepmother, so we have to be very quiet.”
“What on earth is going on?” said a soft female voice.
When Temperance looked up, she saw Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper, a wise, kind woman near Banister’s age. She nearly cried at the sight of her.
“My lady!” exclaimed Mrs. Jones in a hush. Surprising Temperance, she rushed forward and embraced her. “We’ve prayed for your safety,” she whispered into her ear.
“Lady Agatha needs our help,” said Banister in a low voice. “She has to retrieve something against Lord Langston from her father’s study.”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Jones briskly, dashing away a tear. “Say no more. I’ll stand guard.”
As they made their way across the dining room, Banister shared in whispers how the house had changed since her father’s death.
Lady Auster had apparently sold many valuable items. The loyal staff had been treated without proper respect and their wages were lowered, but most stayed to protect what remained of her father’s legacy.
They’d all been instructed to report any sightings of Temperance immediately.
Temperance looked around the dining room.
Where her father’s simple but elegant taste had once prevailed, Lady Auster had transformed the space into a gaudy display of her supposed wealth and refinement.
Her father’s prized possession brought from abroad, the mahogany table, was now covered with an ostentatious lace tablecloth that hid its beautiful grain.
Temperance ran her fingers along the edge of the table, feeling the familiar curve beneath the unfamiliar cloth.
Instead of the landscapes her father had collected over decades, Lady Auster’s family portraits hung on the walls.
Even the silver candelabras had been replaced with gold-plated monstrosities that would have made her father cringe.
It was so different from Octavius’s dining room.
His space reflected his love for comfort and pleasure.
Rich furniture polished to a warm glow, art selected for beauty rather than price.
Even with his excesses, his taste remained unique and intentional, whereas her stepmother’s changes seemed naught but desperate attempts to show wealth she didn’t truly possess.
The contrast made Temperance think of the home and family she’d left behind, not just Octavius’s elegant house, but the relief she’d felt this morning when Sophie’s fever finally broke.
The little girl had slept peacefully for the first time in days, her breathing normal and easy, a natural smile on her face.
Temperance had lingered at her bedside, reluctant to leave, knowing this dangerous mission might mean she’d never see Sophie again.
And Octavius? Earlier that very afternoon, he’d surprised her just before their French lesson.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said gruffly as she’d laid the French book on Egyptian history in front of him. “I should have treated what you told me more delicately. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I want to control you—that’s the last thing I want.”
Her heart had lifted as she looked into his warm brown eyes beneath his furrowed, dark honey brows. Color reddened his high cheekbones, his lips pressed into a straight line she ached to smooth to their beautiful fullness.
“I worry,” Octavius had murmured. “My only wish is for you to be safe and well.”
Temperance’s chest expanded as she felt an invisible cocoon wrap around them both, just as it had before.
“Thank you,” she had murmured. “I am safe and well here. That must have been hard for you, to find strength and apologize.”
The Duke of Eccess had chuckled softly. “You helped me realize there are more important things than feeling inadequate. You, for one.”
In that moment, she hadn’t been able to speak. “You’re forgiven, Octavius.”
The grin that had transformed his face made her heart soar. “Thank you. But I must insist again that you tell me the name of that man who hunts you.”
She had swallowed. “I won’t. I told you I’m taking matters into my own hands, and soon he won’t be able to do anything, and I’ll be free.”
Right now, in Papa’s London house, she was taking her freedom back.
When they finally reached the door of her father’s study and Banister unlocked it, Temperance entered the room, and her heart almost broke at the familiar scent that still remained: the lingering traces of his cologne mingled with his favorite snuff tobacco, as though her father had just left for winter and would return at any moment to continue his affairs in London.
Her eyes filled with tears as she looked around. The desk had a layer of dust, probably because no one was allowed inside even to clean.
She moved to the bookcase and retrieved several books from the third shelf. Behind them was hidden a wooden box with an electrophorus inside. She shook it and held it vertically, and a thin paper slipped out from between the discs. With her heart thumping, she picked up the paper. This is it!
But as she examined the date and the neat writing on the ticket to make absolutely sure, Mrs. Jones poked her head into the study. “The carriage is arriving,” she whispered loudly. “They are returning!”
Banister nodded. “I must open the door for them,” he whispered to Temperance. “But we have to get you out first. You can leave through the servants’ back stairs.”
“I’ll greet them,” said Mrs. Jones sternly.
“But you might risk her dissatisfaction,” said Temperance, worry for the loyal servants tightening her throat.
“Don’t worry yourself,” Banister said as they walked down the corridors as quickly as his legs would allow him.
As he closed the servants’ door behind her, Temperance heard the knock at the front door, then the voices of Lady Auster and Bartholomew, and Mrs. Jones greeting them.
Her heart pulsed in her throat as Banister walked with her through the servants’ corridor towards the back door.
He opened it for her, but before she could leave, he halted her. “Your father would be proud of your courage, Lady Agatha, but remember—you were never meant to stand alone. Just say the word, and we’ll help.”
He embraced her, and to her surprise she let him, her eyes filling with tears.
“Once I come into my inheritance,” she said to him, “I will be back. I’ll take care of you and Mrs. Jones. You’ve served my family your whole lives.”
The old butler bowed his head and smiled softly.
In the mews, where snow was falling harder, she threw a last glance at Banister, who was closing the door with a reassuring nod.
Temperance clutched the pawn ticket and the electrophorus in her hands.
It would be a pity to leave such a useful mechanism behind for people who thought science was witchcraft.
She did have those who cared for her; she wasn’t alone.
Now, with the pawn ticket in her pocket, she felt more powerful than she had since Papa had died and she’d become a prisoner of her stepmother.
She had the power now—she could send a copy of the ticket with a letter to her stepmother and demand, once and for all, her independence.
And in the meantime she would carry that knowledge—and the ticket—with her every day, like a weapon.
Until it was all over.